Three Is Company
by iPickleThings
Summary: It might not be cool to have your panties all fucking knotted up in juice soaked uncomfortable-ness like this, but fuck it. You are filled with a righteous boyfriend rage and Karkat is about to feel it all over his face if he doesn't back off in about 2.5 milliseconds. A kinkmeme fill in which Dave shows Karkat what swagger really means.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Three Is Company  
><strong>Fandom: <strong>Homestuck  
><strong>Pairings:<strong> Dave Strider / John Egbert, John Egbert / Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider / Karkat Vantas, Dave Strider / John Egbert / Karkat Vantas  
><strong>Summary:<strong>It might not be cool to have your panties all fucking knotted up in juice soaked uncomfortable-ness like this, but fuck it. You are filled with a righteous boyfriend rage and Karkat is about to feel it all over his face if he doesn't back off in about 2.5 milliseconds. A kinkmeme fill in which Dave shows Karkat what swagger really means.  
><strong>Warnings:<strong> Tentabulge, three way, underage males, frottage and hand jobs, sort of.

**Chapter One:**

You are Dave Strider and you have your panties in a royal tizzy.

It might not be cool to have your panties all fucking knotted up and soaked girl juices like this, but fuck it. You are filled with a righteous boyfriend rage and Karkat is about to feel it all over his face if he doesn't back off in about 2.5 milliseconds.

But, there he goes again. Leaning in close so that his stupid little nubby horns are almost brushing against John's hair. John is saying something innocent and adorable, as usual, and Karkat is blushing a shameless pink. What a jerk. Who does he think he's coming on too?

I mean, sure, you and John have had no real physical relationship and you have yet to crack your own cool veneer enough to actually admit your feelings to the little guy, but that does not make it okay for Karkat to be as all up in John's grill as he is. After all of his trumpeting about how bad human/troll relationships were you'd think he'd know how to toe the goddamn line.

You guess not. You guess you have to show him what for. You guess you'll have to invite him to a session of fisticuffs for the derp biologist's affections.

Resolving your determination for fisticuffs, you push yourself off of the table you were leaning on while you were watching the two boys talk closely about their shared taste in movies and you approach Karkat. Placing one hand on his shoulder, you give him a push and send his little rolly computer chair spinning a few feet away.

Karkat immediately turns an extremely predictable red shade under his ashy gray skin and stands up, storming up to you, and doing his best to stand toe to toe with you, the nigh untouchable coolkid. Too bad he's about a foot shorter than you, so that you get to happily soak in the feeling of superiority as you stare down into his face with an impassive expression.

"Hey, Dave! What the heck?" John says crossly from his seat to your right. You don't look (you're much too busy lording your height over a still glaring Karkat), but you can hear the pout in his voice. Karkat owes you an even bigger apology for making you miss John's pout face with his stupid offended glaring.

"Yeah, Dave Human! What the hell is your problem!" Karkat barks up into your face. You stare down at him impassively, though you raise one eyebrow slightly at his gratuitous overuse of shout poles.

"You probably wouldn't even know how to handle him," you mutter down into Karkat's face, as you think of what a bumbling little ragamuffin of anti-love he is and how epic his fail would be if he ever got together with John. He probably would be blushing an indignant red and stumbling all over himself to remember how trolls bedded one another in his ridiculous Rom Coms. And, then John would probably be all patient and reassuring, causing more red flushed flesh to be spread generously between the two of them. Et cetra.

As you imagine the two boys' attempts at bumbling sexy time, not only does Karkat just about bust a nut telling you what a jerky pink puss face of a speck of dirt you are, but little Dave perks up and takes notice.

Why, hello there, little guy! What are you doing up so early in this fic'?

Dave junior tells Dave senior that he is already most aroused just anticipating what awesome things are about to go down right here at this very moment and just wanted to let everyone know that he was up, at 'em, and ready to party. Why, thank you, my good sir! Such enthusiasm is much appreciated.

Luckily, only John seemed to notice little Dave's new upright stature. The Heir of Breath blushed a bright red and looked up into your face, only to see your usual disenchanted visage. This only further confused the young man and pushed him to keep his mouth shut. He was thinking that, maybe, it was one of those freak puberty erections and that you might not have noticed yet. John smiled a little to think that you could have uncool problems like that and graciously stayed quiet to save your perceived pride.

But, you have no real pride. Just a reputation to uphold.

"What do you mean I wouldn't know what to do?! You wouldn't know what to do with a bucket if it were strapped to your disfigured human reproduction apparatus!" Karkat continued to scream into your face.

"Your mom wouldn't know what to do with all the mad buckets I would be filling up all her shit," you retort confidently.

As Karkat sputters and rattles through his brain to remember what a 'mom' was, you take the plunge. Little Dave is your pal and you would never leave him hanging after all.

Putting one hand behind Karkat's head and the other on his waist, you pull the momentarily staggered boy towards you, crushing your lips against his. He tastes strange, not that you know what trolls (let alone other people) are supposed to taste like. He doesn't taste like you, anyway. He tastes like old paper and pennies. Dirty pennies that have seen better days. You don't hate it.

At first he wiggles and struggles in your grasp. But, eventually, under the careful ministrations of your tongue against his he begins to weaken and sag against you even as you feel the heat of blood rush to his swollen lips and heated cheeks.

John sounds a quick 'Eep!' from where he's sitting and you register him putting a hand to his mouth, even as his blue eyes widen to the size of saucers. Well, at least you have his attention.

You continue to play with Karkat's tongue, avoiding his sharp little teeth at first, but eventually becoming daring enough to run your tongue over their base. You find that his teeth, despite looking rather sharp, are not especially so. While coming to points, their actual sharpness is not enough to do harm unless pressure is applied to them. At least you don't have to worry about tearing your mouth while you molest the shit out of him.

Eventually, you release the panting troll from your grip and wipe your mouth on the back of your sleeve. John is looking back and forth between the two of you with a strange expression on his face as Karkat and you stare each other down.

You smirk and look at John. "See, Karkles has no idea what to do with you. If you want to get down and dirty, you should always do it with a pro," you explain patiently, extending a hand to John, who takes it unconsciously.

His face has all the makings of a star struck Backstreet Boys fan.

Karkat makes some kind of frustrated sound from the background and, vaguely, it registers that the sound was somewhere between indignant and whining. Interesting.

But, not as interesting as the words marching out of John's mouth with an airy breeze.

"O-oh. Thanks, Dave. That would be cool."

"Cool," you reply, glad that your solidly closed off emotional range doesn't allow you to express elation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

You are Dave Strider and you are about molar deep in a face full of John Egbert. You are not complaining.

When you ever so suavely whisked John away from Karkat's grabby little hands, you hadn't expected anything further to develop. You were on the defensive, a linebacker checking other players into walls, benches, and parked cars. Because, that is how sports work. You weren't expecting to ever get the ball. You had just invested all of your stunted little heart into protecting it.

So, when John showed up in the doorway of the room you had declared as your own on the dejected meteor laboratory that you were sharing with your fellow aliens, you had never expected him to smile at you sheepishly and ask for your professional guidance. In the ways of sucking face.

John is obviously heavily inexperienced in kissing. You are also greatly inexperienced in kissing, but you'd rather not think about who might be the source of the insane amount of slobber gracing your cheeks.

John's breath is breaking hot and needy across your face. His teeth are constantly in the way, but you've never been one to back down from a challenge.

You can feel John's hands trembling as they reach out to clutch at the front of your shirt. You make it a point to steady your hands before you reach out and smooth your hands over his abdomen. The muscles jump and shake a little at your touch. John gasps into your mouth.

You might just die. You might just die from how ridiculously awesome your life has become in the past two minutes.

Hesitantly, John pulls away from you and smiles bashfully.

"I, uh. I'm not that good, huh?" John laughs nervously, rubbing at his red and swollen lips.

You are so glad that you still have your glasses on.

"Don't worry about it, Bro," you say slowly, trying to nonchalantly run the back of your sleeve over your face. Whoever knew that making out was such messy business? "You have a lot to learn, but this coolkid here has a degree in fucking and a license to be a professional badass," you say, as you press your hand against John's chest and slowly guide him to lying down on his back.

Sometimes, you sincerely wonder where this amazing bullshit you spout comes from. It's as if it just falls from the asses of douchebag angels, lands in your mouth, and you projectile vomit all the fuck over the place.

John's face gets even hotter at your response than it was before, if that's possible. You say a silent prayer to the smart aleck diarrhea angels watching over your love endeavours.

With John laid out beneath you, dumbfounded, innocent, and completely vulnerable, you can't stop yourself from taking advantage of him. You lean down and press your mouth against his neck. John follows quickly and tilts his head back and to the side, exposing more of his pale neck to you and your voracious mouth. You bite and suck all along the throbbing jumping veins in his neck. You make sure to leave big suckle marks on his shoulders and the hollow of his throat.

You keep your hands on John's chest and enjoy the feeling of his stomach muscle twitching with all his feels, the sensation of his spine rolling with each new touch and bite, the expansion and decompression of his chest with each gasping breath.

You are invested in this motherfucker. And, if this market crashes, fuck everybody else. You're jumping out the fifth story window.

Things begin to advance quickly and you're just hoping that your pounding pumping heart will be able to keep up with your dick's debonair pace.

You continue to assault John's neck as your hands lift off his torso and trail down towards the top of John's pants. You can feel the little motherfucker's body practically levitate off the mattress in anticipation. You have to bite your tongue not to moan aloud at his show of enthusiasm.

Teasing, you instead tuck your fingertips under the hem of his pale blue shirt and allow your fingers to follow the same trail that had taken down back up John's stomach. Your fingers are trembling as they lightly skim John's skin, but you're rather sure he doesn't notice considering how much his chest and stomach are jumping and twitching. Eventually, your fingertips trail up to John's chest and trace ghostly circles around his nipples.

John is gasping for breath at this point and his hands are desperately grabbing at the back of your shirt. You can feel the fabric stretching and John straining to pull you down against him. You're starting to think he's going to start hyperventilating soon. You've never heard him breathe so fast or so hard.

But, there's some sadistic little part of you that doesn't want to give him the satisfaction he's craving for, that wants him to continue begging with his eyes and with his mouth. You know that you'll eventually give in, so you don't feel so bad about the frustrated mewls that are sneaking their way out from the depths of John's throat.

Why hurry? You'd rather keep John trapped underneath you, yearning for you, like this forever.

John obviously does not agree.

You're busy trailing teasing touches down John's body and licking hot stripes up his neck when his cute mewls turn into sincerely frustrated angry growls. You pause in your ministrations. You didn't know that John's voice could even go that low. Why, had your precious Heir finally hit puberty at the ripe old age of sixteen? You are so proud of him.

You have no time to take a leisurely stroll down sarcastic reminiscence avenue, as John's angry growling has turned into angry movement. With one surprisingly strong roll of his hips, John pushes you up off of him, tips you onto your back on the bed, and comes back up to straddle you.

John presses his hands against your chest before leaning down with a cross expression on his face.

"Dave," he growls. You try your best to suppress a shiver at the guttural way he said your name, but you're pretty sure you failed. "Stop being such a jerk," John rumbles before leaning down to claim your mouth in a devastating kiss.

What a crazy awesome motherfucking wizard. Magic is obviously awesome. You are so glad that it is real.

His tongue is in your gaping mouth in seconds and he's doing all kinds of ridiculous things with that tongue. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that _you_ were supposed to be the professional. But, John is kind of showing you what for right in your own bed. You can not find it in you to complain.

John starts to slide his hips back so that this dick is pressed flush against yours (except, you know, for the layers of clothing between them). You gasp like a dainty little fairy princess and start to have issues controlling your breathing. You're starting to like this flipping magic.

"John, are you in here?" you hear a familiar scratchy voice ask about 2.4 seconds before Karkat waltzes around the corner and immediately freezes in place like a deer about to be run over by a fourteen wheeler barreling down the interstate.

Your mind is cloudy, but you do register some extreme disappointment. You were really hoping to develop this little encounter into the kind of thing that the editorials of 'Hot Boy Wang Monthly' are made out of. But, no. The stupid little nubby horns had to shove his thick think pan in your door at the exact wrong minute. What a fucking cock block.

"John, what are you doing in here!" Karkat screeches, his face finally molding itself into a perfect image of rage and indignation.

You visibly flinch and refuse to type his words in all caps. Just to be a dick.

"Karkat, stop yelling!" John exclaims from above you. "Come here," he demands, reaching a hand out towards Karkat while his other remains on your chest.

… What?

Karkat seems as dumbfounded by the command as you are.

John's expression becomes even more firm and he does a little bounce that makes you gasp at the contact. You imagine John would have stomped his foot if he hadn't been busy grinding his dick on you.

"Karkat, come here," John reiterates.

Karkat's face works as he seems to consider the proposition. Eventually, he seems to settle on being complacent to John's whims for once and shuffles his feet toward the two of you.

John takes Karkat's hand in his own and pulls him forward until he's forced to kneel on the bed beside you, making you feel even more uncomfortable than before, if at all possible.

"I'm just about done with the two of you fighting all the time," John pouted.

Karkat opened his gaping maw to snap something out, but John's look stopped him.

"You two are going to learn to get along, if it's the last thing you do!" John exclaimed.

You think that your best wet dream has just turned into your worst nightmare.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Your stomach has been doing uncomfortable backflips from the moment that Karkat walked in on your unlikely rendezvous with John. Despite how much you harsh on Karkat, you don't really hate him. He might be adorable if he wasn't screaming profanities every second. Just, you know, you don't want him around while your dick is hard and rubbing up against your teenage male love interest's thigh.

"John, I want absolutely nothing to do with whatever fucked up human mating ritual you are engaging in right now. In fact, I want nothing to do with any of your human rituals," Karkat screeched, already looking noticeably ruffled as John pulled him towards the bed and sat him firmly down beside you.

Karkat sits down with his back to you. He is leaning forward to listen closely to whatever nonsense John is spouting and you suddenly realize that Karkat tucks his shirt into his pants. What the fuck? How did you never notice that before. Just when you thought the little turd couldn't get any cooler. What a badass lady's man.

You notice this fine display of manliness, because you see that his shirt has been pulled out of his pants in the back. When Karkat leaned forward, the shirt must not have been long enough to stretch across the sharp planes of his back. His pants are having issues trying to keep ahold of his tiny little bony ass, as well. So, you (Dave Strider, in case anyone momentarily forgot) are getting quite an eyeful of the top of Karkat's backside.

It says something about how numb you are to awkward situations that the first thing you're amazed about is that trolls even have asscracks. Secondly, you take warm note that Karkat has quite the shapely rear. It's being pushed up and together like some floozy's finely crafted cleavage.

John and Karkat are having a very serious conversation about what John and Dave were doing and how badly John needs Karkat to accept the two of them. And, is John trying to maneuver Karkat into a three way? Whatever. This ass crack is far more wonderful.

"Dun duh, dun duh..." you hum, turning your hand into a terrifying shark as it swims its way through the air. "Dun duh, dun duh," you say, the shark slowly circling its prey.

"Dave, what are you doing?" John stops mid-sentence to ask.

But, it's too late. The shark already has its prey in its sights and its not about to be distracted now.

"Dun Duh, Dun Duh, Dadah!" and with a final exclamation of anticipative doom, you slide your flattened hand between Karkat's asscheeks in the most classic credit card of all existence. Your dead human bros would be most proud.

Karkat screeches and jumps about a mile in the air, his hands scrabbling to protect his shapely rear.

"WHAT THE HELL!" he yells. You feel it's okay to capitalize his scream, as it seemed appropriately louder than his normal yelling to dictate some caps up in this bitch.

"All shall fear the shark," you reply, snaking your hand through the air.

John snorts.

All is well with the world.

"YOU MOTHERFUCKING KNOB FUMBLING SKIN SACK!" Karkat screams, launching himself at you. Before he can get a good grasp of you with his nubby little gray fingers, you use his own force to toss him on his side beside you. You then proceed to roll over on top of Karkat like a bag of flour, John obligingly jumping off of your slightly softening dick to accommodate your counter-attack.

Despite being one of the skinniest motherfuckers around, you're still a good twenty or thirty pounds heavier than Karkat. He screams and bucks and generally makes a ruckus, but you just continue to be a cool motherfucker just laying on this infinitely fresh scream-y pillow. So scream-y and wiggly.

John starts to laugh loudly and launches himself on top of you. Okay. This would be cool if you didn't have organs.

"Dog pile!" John calls happily.

Karkat makes a kind of whimpering sound and you cough to try and force your lungs open.

"John," you say, "I kind of can't breathe."

"Oops!" John exclaims, rolling off of you.

You take a deep breath and relish the taste of oxygen for a moment. It's nice to have organs.

"John, get this monkey -" you hear Karkat start to form an insult when it's muffled halfway through. Curious, you roll over to get an eye full.

John is deep mouth kissing Karkat. Right there. Right in front of your face. And, Karkat is not complaining in the least.

You idly wonder if you should be complaining. Should you come down on their face sucking parade with a mountain of feels? You wonder if you can even effectively pull off the jealous boyfriend schtick, considering your face has such a hard time doing anything greater than a nervous tick. After considering it, you decide not to do the jealousy thing. Let's not go down the teenage girl route. Let's go down the teenage boys gone wild route. You're probably not going to get to college anyway. Might as well let the hormones fly.

Never one to be outdone, you stretch your head up to start to lick at Karkat's neck. You feel his body stiffen under yours and hear him moan into John's mouth. John groans back appreciatively.

Now that you have someone other than yourself to compare him too, you're quite sure that Karkat tastes different than most humans. His skin feels leathery and dry against your lips and tongue and he still tastes somewhat coppery, though it's less so than his mouth. His skin is also loose and somewhat stiff. You image that it's the texture that someone severely dehydrated would have.

You take a handful of Karkat's shirt and yank it from the top of his pants (such a fucking badass). Karkat tilts his hips back in reaction. You start to move your hands up Karkat's chest.

It feels alien, as stupidly obvious as that is to say. There is a lot more ribcage and a lot less muscle than either you or John have. His ribs start low, you can feel some of the lowest ones around his waist. Feeling lower, you can detect more bones. It is possible that his rib cage runs from his hips all the way to his clavicle? Your clever hands start to explore.

Karkat has no nipples. You're starting to classify him as some kind of reptile anyway, so that's not that surprising. His chest has the same general shape as a humans, but there are still a lot more bones that you can't identify or rationalize. Your hands are skirting along his sides and your mouth is attached firmly to his throat when Karkat suddenly sits up.

"Will you stop poking at me like some kind of lab experiment?" he snaps, his lips shining and his chest heaving.

John looks up from the bed surprised, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"I can't help it, dude. It's interesting," you reply with a shrug.

That strange red tint starts to show under Karkat's gray skin again. You suppose that this is his version of blushing.

"Whatever!" Karkat grumbled. "Let's see you, then," he demands, grabbing the edge of your shirt and tugging. Deciding to be nice, for once, you allow Karkat to pull your shirt up over your head and then enjoy his expression as he takes in your bare chest.

His mouth sort of falls open and his eyebrows shoot up his forehead. His eyes keep flitting from your nipples, to your bellybutton, and generally anywhere else they can look at you.

You notice that John is giving you an appreciative look from over Karkat's shoulder. You pull your shoulders back and try your best to look like you notice. John smiles at you and pulls off his shirt from behind Karkat, but the troll doesn't notice.

"Excuse me, but I'm up here," you joke, pointing to your face.

John giggles and presses himself up against Karkat's back, making the troll nearly jump out of his skin. But, it seems to shake him out of whatever stupefied state he seemed to have fallen into.

"God, you guys really are aliens," he groans, visibly sagging back into John who has wrapped his arms affectionately around Karkat's middle.

"That's right. We're as motherfucking extraterrestrial as it gets," you deadpan, crawling forward to nuzzle up against Karkat's neck again. It's one of the strangest and most familiar tastes you've ever experienced, but you can't quite put your finger on what Katkat tastes like. The closest you can come to is a nasty old bike tire that's been left out in the rain for a few days.

With that imagery in mind, maybe you don't want to chew on his neck even if he does sound awfully nice when you do it.

You, instead, give the heavy breathing Karkat a quick peck on the cheek while your hands make quick work of his pants.

"Hey!" Karkat exclaims breathlessly, putting a staying hand over yours.

He and you share a _look_ for a long moment. Finally, you sigh and give him another quick peck on the lips while John nuzzles his hair.

"It will be okay," John croons.

"Yeah," you reprise. "I mean, nothing could cement our xenophilia more than this," you say with a grin as you give Karkat's pants a sharp yank.

You pull his pants free and down in one deft movement while Karkat gasps and John generally does the loving boyfriend thing; kissing his knuckles and nuzzling into his dark curls.

You, however, are doing your best not to think about hentai. It sounds weird in this context, but you're pretty sure you just saw a little red tentacle wave hello to you from the depths of Karkat's pants.

Why, hello there little Karkat. You are a tentacle monster. Very nice to meet you. Perhaps you're being a racist (xenist?), but you're not going to turn ten feet long, one foot thick, and wear me like a condom, right? Usually the tentacles just knock out the boys and go seek out cuter asian girls in mini skirts. You hope that Karkat's genetalia is a Japanese tentacle monster. At least those are predictable.

John seems not to have noticed what Karkat's nethers are made out of yet, so you take the time to explore again. You are nothing if not a curious motherfucker.

You dangle your index finger teasingly above the half-shadowed writhing red mass in Karkat's pants. You are still mentally debating with yourself about whether you really want to touch it or not when one of the little ends shoots out and grabs your finger tight.

You gasp in surprise, Karkat gasps in ecstasy, and John looks down and squeaks a little.

While Karkat pants heavily and stares at the ceiling, John and yourself share a knowing glance.

Tentacles. Really.

Sighing a little, you pull Karkat's pants further away from his genitalia. After the troll's hesitance and the way John and you kind of swept him up (somewhat against his will) into your own delinquent affair, you can't possibly wimp out now. Neither of you can.

Taking your hands, you slip them between Karkat's pants and his ass. You feel him press into the touch and give both of his pert little cheeks a firm squeeze. This pushes a breathy moan that helps to give you the confidence to move forward.

You slide your hands down the back side of Karkat's legs, pulling his pants down with them. You continue all the way to the back of his ankles, at which point you're forced to pull off Karkat's socks and shoes as well. You look up into Karkat's fevered eyes and are a little bit startled at how attractive he looks. Well, the two of them look.

Karkat's eyes are warm and wet, his mouth is open and panting, and his genitalia has unfolded between his legs into a red wet writhing mass of differently shaped tentacles. John is pressed behind him, looking at you hotly. He has a conspiratorial gleam in his eye that you like and, even though his hands and mouth are dedicated solely to Karkat, his eyes stay trained on you.

Need you reiterate? Hot.

You climb slowly back up Karkat's body, getting as much into his space as possible without touching him. You hover your hand over his crotch teasingly.

"Wow, Karkles," you chuckle. "Is that an octopus in your pants or are you just happy to see me?" you ask.

John has the decency to bury his face in the back of Karkat's neck, but not enough to not laugh.

"F-fuck off," Karkat mutters, though his eyebrows are quirked just enough to indicate that he's unsure. Distressed?

Can't be having that. Fuck up the orgy mood much? You don't think so.

Allowing your face to be pulled into a cocky smirk, you press the palm of your hand against Karkat's, uh, bulge? You don't really have any idea what you're doing, but it doesn't seem to matter to Karkat.

He arches his back with a wanton moan and presses his crotch against the flat of your hand. He begins to grind his hips against your hand, the long writhing tentacles that make up his genitals are twitching and dripping red smelly liquid all over you. The smell of ozone starts to permeate the air. Fucking aliens.

"Oh, wow," John breathes from behind Karkat. You feel, rather than see, a shiver run up Karkat's spine at the words.

Your smirk pulls a little wider and you crawl up to lick a hot strip up Karkat's neck and face. You enjoy feeling the tremor that sends through his whole body.

"Karkat, I'm surprised," you breathe against the shell of his ear. He groans and tosses his head towards John who is happy to pepper his sharp features with chaste kisses. "You had us all fooled into believing you were a pure maiden of restraint, but just look at the way you're dripping all over my bed. Don't think that I'm going to be sleeping in this wet spot, let me tell you."

Karkat attempts to give you a withering look, but it fails to hold its desired ire what with the thick blush across his cheeks and his blown pupils.

John laughs and leans over Karkat's shoulder to catch your caustic mouth in a kiss. You dive into his mouth with your tongue like a dying man in a desert dives into an oasis. You begin to twist your fingers into Karkat's bulge. Karkat groans appreciatively from between the two of you and tilts his hips up toward you.

Karkat is dripping wet. You can literally feel the thick liquid gathering and running down your arm. You allow your fingers to burrow further into the tendrils of his bulge while your tongue carefully explores John's mouth. Your fingers eventually hit what seems like a pubic bone. Karkat's sounds become more enthusiastic and you can tell that he really likes it when you rub your fingertips against the slick spongy skin stretched between the tentacles.

You continue to press and rub between the tentacles, slowly moving your fingers lower as Karkat croons and mewls his appreciation. Eventually, your fingers slip out from the little forest of tentacles and slide down into a little divot. The skin there is especially warm and wet. It's spongy and porous and you try to be especially careful with your fingernails.

As soon as your fingers reach the little divot Karkat hows and lifts his hips fully off the bed. You jump back from both him and John in surprise.

Karkat reaches out behind him and clutches John who squeezes him in return. Karkat's whole body shudders and twitches and John carefully guides him through with whispered words of encouragement and kisses along his neck and ear.

You can't help but to be a little jealous. Your dick is currently getting stage three zipper burn from inside your jeans. You never thought Xeno dick could be so hot. But, now seems like a bad time to whip it out.

Karkat's orgasm slowly fades and he allows himself to lowered back down into the dark spot he's made on your comforter. You're glad that you have a red blanket over your bed, so at least the little puddle Karkat left isn't as noticeable as it could be.

Reluctantly, you pull your mind away from the mess on your bed and look up at Karkat. He's snuggled in close to John who is still patiently petting and comforting him. John catches your eye for a moment and smiles. John subtly crooks a finger in your direction and you lean forward into his space.

John smiles at you apologetically and you can feel your heart do a little two step in your chest.

"Sorry," he whispers, leaning in to give you a quick peck on the lips. "Next time?" John asks quietly.

Next time? Your mind reels with the thought of being able to do something like this (like anything) with John again.

"Sure," you whisper back hoarsely. Karkat twitches as he falls into a deep slumber in John's arms.

"If it's any consolation, that was a rather impressive display of professional prowess," John chuckles.

If you weren't Dave Strider, you would blush. But, you are Dave Strider, so the warmth across your cheeks isn't a blush. It isn't.

Shut up.


End file.
